Obligatory Bering and Wells Coffeeshop AU
by racesunfortunateficarchive
Summary: No Warehouse, no artifacts, no Endless Wonder. Just two slightly damaged women who meet in a coffeeshop and maybe fall in love. This will be my last posted story on fanfic. net.


**Title: Bering and Wells Obligatory Coffee Shop AU**

**Rating: M for sexy times in the second part**

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has ever read and commented and favorited one of my stories. This will be the last work I post on fanfic . net. I'm still writing (for the whole 3 of you that care ;) but have now moved to AO3 and will continue to post work there under the username Racethewind_10 (i like to get crazy, mix it up, throw in an underscore every now and then). I plan to gradually clean up some of my old work and move it over there, but I really wanted to hit 100 stories her on my ff account and what better way to do that than with a Bering and Wells AU.**

Happy 2015 everyone :)

* * *

Helena looked down at her drawing, reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose as a sudden wave of vertigo made the room seem to spin. For a moment, her heart pounded and she was disoriented, animal panic making her grip the table for stability, and then…nothing.

The world seemed to snap back into place with a near physical 'lurch', and with it, Helena's stomach. Blinking, the dark haired woman rubbed her temple.

_What in God's name was that_? She wondered, and then shook her head at her own whimsy and took a sip of her quickly cooling espresso, only barely repressing a face at its temperature.

_You know what that is Wells, 'that' is working 80 hour weeks on a project that still has no end in sight for a madman of a boss who seems to delight in making his employees fantasize about killing him_.

And because the truth did not change the fact that her part of the schematic was due tomorrow morning "_first thing!"_ Helena took a deep breath and steeled herself, returning to her design. The project was coming together, but the sheer number of sub-contractors was a pain in everyone's ass and she'd finally escaped to her favorite coffee shop for some air that didn't smell of unwashed lab assistant and computers.

_If James ever suggests working for the U.S. Government again, I'll strangle him myself_, she swore silently.

Still, the design work was fascinating, and challenging, and God knew Helena was making bank on it. Moving to the U.S. to accept James' offer to head up an R&amp;D division in his tech company had been, ultimately, a good decision. True H.G. - as she was generally called - missed London and still found American's trying at times (like the admittedly handsome young man at the bar with light bronze skin and a stylish bit of stubble who kept trying to catch her eye) - but the work was interesting, her co-workers not unpleasant and James was…tolerable… in a mad genius sort of way.

It wasn't saving the world, but H.G. got on quite well and was putting away for early retirement. She'd always wanted to do a bit of traveling, maybe spend some time in Italy or Spain.

But that was for later, _after_ she'd finished this damn project and made sure the rest of her team added their contributions on time.

Making a last notation, the engineer was just about to put away her things when the bell over the shop door tinkled softly, signaling a new arrival. Out of instinct, Helena looked up, and found her attention snared unexpectedly and effortlessly, by a pair of lovely hazel eyes. Those eyes belonged to a tall brunette with a mane of curls, full lips that looked like they smiled a great deal, and rather remarkable legs currently hugged by well worn jeans under a simple teal top and jacket. The whole effect was effortlessly attractive and Helena felt something deep in her heart give a strange little tug, as if in recognition.

But no, that made no sense…

Helena blinked, for some reason unable to look away. The stranger offered her a brief, gentle smile before turning back to the counter to order and the dark haired woman thought she detected just a hint of a blush on the tall woman's cheeks.

_Oh don't be ridiculous Helena, you have better things to do than hit on unsuspecting women at the coffee shop._

And yet when the stranger had collected her coffee, she and Helena appeared to notice at exactly the same time that the only empty seats in the entire place were either right next to the gentlemen who had previously been eyeing Helena and was now practically _drooling_ over the leggy brunette, or at Helena's small table.

Trying to appear casual, Helena offered a gentle smile and deliberately moved her things off the other side of the table, catching those remarkable eyes when they fell on her once more.

Luck, it would seem, was with the Brit tonight, for sure enough, the stranger moved to stand next to Helena's table.

"Hi, I'm so sorry, but do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all, please," Helena replied, rather ridiculously happy she didn't sound too eager.

What _was_ her problem this evening? If there was one thing H.G. Wells was_not,_ it was nervous around attractive strangers.

"Thank you so much, I really didn't want to have to deal with Mr. Over-interested there."

The two table-mates shared a conspiratorial grin. "I don't blame you," Helena replied as her companion placed her jacket on the back of her chair and settled herself. "And I promise I shall be on my best behavior." The last was said with a teasing wink, but to her shock, the stranger blushed and looked down before boldly holding her gaze once more.

"Oh, there's no need for that."

And now it was Helena's turn to color slightly and find herself at a loss for words. She had never felt this - this pull of attraction - so damned _strongly _before. It was extremely disconcerting.

"Uh, sorry, I should probably introduce myself before flirting badly," the stranger said, looking rather apologetic, apparently mistaking Helena's silence for discomfort. Helena decided that was utterly unacceptable.

"Actually I thought you were flirting quite well. And my name is Helena," she held out her hand.

"Helena," it was taken in a gentle, firm grip. "I'm Myka."

Gazes locked far tighter than the grip of their fingers, the two women held on for quite a bit longer than was strictly necessary.

A fact which they seemed to realize at the same moment, for both let go and busied themselves.

Myka rummaged some papers out of her bag and Helena returned to her design, but leaving was now the last thing on the engineer's mind. After all, she had the entire night, and suddenly, Helena was quite loathe to return to the office.

The evening wore on and Helena's design did not get finished, but each time she looked up and caught eyes the color of a shaded forest glen looking her way, she couldn't bring herself to regret the continued delay.

It was full dark by the time the coffee shop began to clear out. Helena was staring at her schematic, but in truth her entire attention was engaged inward, in a heated debate about whether or not she should just ask Myka to dinner.

Said debate, however, was brought to an abrupt halt when Myka sighed and gathered up her things.

Helena tried to ignore the fierce stab of disappointment that was as unexpected as it was painful. Really, she needed to get out more if this was how she reacted to a cute stranger sitting by her.

The engineer was just about to wish her former table-mate good night when Myka stood and after worrying at her lip for a moment, blurted, "Would you like to get dinner sometime?"

Helena would admit later to being totally caught off-guard. And once again, Myka seemed to take her silence for dislike.

"I mean, just friendly, nothing…you know just to keep from getting hit on and uh…Ok I'm sorry that was really forward of me I just, don't meet many people and…"

"I'd love to."

"Oh…you would?"

"It would be my pleasure," Helena said softly, letting her ridiculous, but very apparent desire weight her words. The effect it had on Myka was _beautiful_.

The brunette relaxed, her eyes sparkled and she smiled, _really_ smiled. It made Helena's heart flip over in her chest. Oh she had been right. That mouth was made for smiling.

"Ok then, well, here's my card. Call me?" Myka asked gently, her voice slightly breathy.

Now it wasn't just Helena's heart that was invested. That voice had a dangerous effect on her nervous system.

"Absolutely." Helena took the small rectangle of paper, and as she did so, deliberately let her fingers brush Myka's.

She could have sworn she felt a spark of electricity.

_Don't be stupid Wells that only happens in romance novels_. But the surprise in Myka's eyes said perhaps she'd felt it too.

"Well uh…goodnight then Helena," and the way Myka said her name was like a caress.

"Goodnight, Myka." Helena replied, knowing her own tone was laden. It was utterly ridiculous, they were in public for God's sake and yet, as Helena watched Myka walk away and caught the glance the other woman threw in her direction just before she exited the shop, Helena was quite sure she wouldn't change a single thing about what had just happened.

Heart fluttering in her chest as though she were a damn school-girl, the engineer finally tore her eyes away from the door and looked down at the card, reading the name there aloud to herself.

"Myka Bering…"

Helena was an engineer, a scientist. She didn't believe in love at first sight or cosmic coincidence, or at least…she hadn't believed in them this morning. She probably still didn't, but as the dark haired woman packed her things and walked out into the brisk fall night, Helena_did_ know one thing.

The first call she made tomorrow was going to be to one Myka O. Bering.

* * *

"I don't normally…Oh God, _yes_…do this," Helena gasped as warm lips sucked on a particularly sensitive bit of skin at the juncture of her throat and shoulder.

The door to Helena's apartment slammed shut as Myka pressed her back against it, lean form molding to Helena's own until she could feel the ragged breaths Myka was taking and the door handle digging into her hip.

"Do what?" the taller woman breathed against Helena's neck, a swift tongue darting out to caress a racing pulse point before soft lips dropped a line of kisses along the sweep of Helena's collar bone.

"Move…this fast," the words were barely more than breath as elegant fingers fumbled open the belt and button of Helena's slacks and found their way inside. A slender arm wrapped around her waist just as those fingers pressed against her, teasing her through the silky - and now very wet - material of Helena's underwear.

"Do you really think we should stop?" Myka asked, pulling her mouth away from Helena's neck to look the smaller woman in the eye.

Whatever response Helena might have had was utterly lost, however, as Myka used one finger to rub the silken material over Helena's clit.

"You do and I'll kill you," Helena managed, her voice somewhere between a growl and a moan as her head fell back against the door and her knees turned to water.

She sounded needy and desperate.

Helena Wells _never_ sounded needy and desperate. But right now, that's exactly what she was and she didn't give a damn if the woman driving her crazy knew it.

All she wanted was Myka's hands on her,**_in_**her, and then she wanted to return the favor. Helena wanted to _see_ Myka, taste her, touch her, **_have_** her, until this incredible need, this desire that threatened to strangle her could be sated.

If it _could_ be sated.

It occurred to Helena – distantly – to question the strength of her desire for a woman she'd only met last week - and in a coffee shop of all places - but then Myka was speaking against her skin again and Helena really, truly _did not care._

"That's what I thought," Myka grinned, desire-darkened green eyes flashing as she took her hand away (Helena may or may not have whimpered) and yanked Helena's slacks down the smaller woman's legs.

They came together as if it was a contest. And maybe it was, as Helena's frustration at not being able to touch Myka's skin finally overwhelmed the liquid heat that clouded her mind and made her pulse race hard and heavy. Grabbing a fistful of the taller woman's shirt, the engineer spun them both around and practically dragged Myka – who laughed delightedly – into the bedroom.

It was dark outside, and once removed from the soft glow of Helena's entryway there was only the faint hint of neon from the city lights outside, falling like a pale Mondrian across her hardwood floors.

It was enough though. Enough for Helena to navigate the blessedly short hallway without running into anything. Enough for her to yank open one curtain and push Myka gracelessly back across her queen sized bed. Enough for her to shed the rest of her own clothing while Myka fumbled with her own.

Enough to have her breath stolen as Myka's top and jeans landed on the floor, leaving the taller woman in a black lace bra and nothing else.

"Someone was presumptuous," Helena meant it to be teasing, but her voice was thick with want, the words their own kind of caress in the soft night of the bedroom.

"Don't tell me you're going to complain," Myka replied softly, the raspy words sliding like a feathered touch down Helena's spine as the taller woman sat up. She slipped her hands around Helena's waist, pulling her onto the bed and between her knees. Here in the shadows Myka's eyes were black, but Helena could feel the warmth of her skin and hear the unevenness of her breathing, a beacon and lure all in one.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Helena replied softly, straddling Myka's legs. She cupped that lovely face in her hands and bent her head, capturing those remarkable lips she may or may not have fantasized about as her hair fell in a silken curtain around them. Kissing Myka Bering was an indescribable pleasure, and Helena, who had never felt herself a sentimental person, found herself in sympathy with those long forgotten poets who berated the limitations of human language to describe the way the pressure of warm soft lips and the teasing, searching touch of tongues could make the human heart soar to impossible heights.

The giddy, competitive rush of their earlier lust now tempered, they moved together slowly. Myka's bra vanished forgotten into a corner and Helena eased her back against the pillows with a gentleness bordering on reverence. And maybe it was, because Myka was stunningly, achingly beautiful, all long lines and gentle curves, living sculpture carved with an elegant, sparing hand. With tender fingers and inquisitive lips, Helena mapped the skin laid bare for her, cataloguing the rise and fall of Myka's breathing, the way she shifted restlessly beneath Helena's touch, the broken sounds of pleasure that fell from parted lips.

And somewhere, beneath the desire, lay a familiarity, as subtle and deep as if stamped in Helena's genetic code, like something that had been dormant her entire life and now flared brightly in the presence of its needed catalyst.

That sense of knowing, of rightness was a mystery that once would have sunk its claws into her, nagging like a single off-key voice in an otherwise perfect chorus. Once Helena might have let that single note sour the glorious symphony her senses were wrapped in.

But that was before, and Helena Wells had learned the value of living in the moment. She knew all too well how easily it could be destroyed.

So she pushed aside that curiosity and lost herself in Myka; in the way the taller woman breathed and moved. In the sounds she made and the way she tasted. Helena sank into wet heat and gripped sweat-slickened skin and let herself lose track of where she ended and Myka began because none of it mattered anyway because there was only warmth and need and pleasure.

Later…much later…they sprawled in a contented tangle, Helena lying half atop Myka, her hips settled between Myka's legs and her head resting on the taller woman's chest. Helena's fingers traced a tiny unseen pattern on the curve of a rib next to her cheek and she let the steady sound of Myka's heart lull her into a peaceful half-sleep.

She woke to fingers tracing the ridged scar tissue on her shoulder, bitterness and regret a potent cocktail forcing her from the best sleep she'd had in ages. Ah, now she remembered why she never brought lovers home. Helena could envision the next few moments with ease. Heaven knew she had lived them enough times in the past; times when exhaustion or merely her own foolish, fleeting hope duped her into staying the night with someone. The inevitable shattering of whatever comfortable – if mostly illusionary – tableau was as pleasant as ripping a plaster off a half-healed wound, dragging the skin of memory and self-chastisement with it.

It had been naïve of her to assume Myka might be different, that the _want _surging in her blood somehow had the power to transform the woman beneath her into something beyond a mere one night stand.

The more fool she.

Gritting her teeth, Helena held back a sigh and answered the silent question Myka's fingertips were asking. Whatever her faults, she had always been one to rip the bandage off quickly.

" Car crash. Six years ago. There was a drunk driver. One moment we were going to get ice cream, the next…He ran the red light. My daughter was in the car. My Christina. She was killed instantly. " Even after all the therapy and time it hurt. It would always hurt, she knew, but it was a pain Helena was used to carrying now, even if she had wished in her weakness for a moment to put it down. Just a moment.

Her shoulders tightened as she prepared to roll away from Myka, mind already on trying to remember where she'd discarded her clothing, on the project notes she still hadn't finished, on whether she needed to go grocery shopping.

On anything but the lure of the slender body beneath her own and the darkened memories that swirled just at the edges of her vision, waiting to drag her into the past once more.

"I am so very sorry." It wasn't the words that stopped Helena, freezing her mid-escape, but the tone. The gentle words held no pity, no awkwardness, no discomfort. There was none of the thinly veiled terror Helena had come to expect when her partners suddenly realized they were in bed with a woman who had lost a daughter. When she looked up, that green gaze met her steadily, unflinching and in the softness of Myka's expression, Helena saw understanding that went far beyond empathy.

Myka Bering had lost someone she loved. That much was instantly clear.

"Stay for breakfast." She'd never offered, not once in all the years since Christina was taken from her. It wasn't what Helena meant to say and yet once the words were past her lips she found she didn't regret them and it occurred to Helena that her rules hadn't so much been broken for Myka as never applied in the first place.

Green eyes were warm and a soft smile tugged at the edges of lips that even now Helena didn't want to look away from.

"I'd like that."

FIN


End file.
